


Unsaid

by Calico



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:13:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calico/pseuds/Calico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a snapshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsaid

Halfway though, John realised he'd got used to this. The thrill of the night-time chase through Kew Gardens, the frenzied fighting before the thugs had stopped resisting Sherlock's attempts to tie them to a tree, the satisfaction of a job well done as they texted the coordinates of said tree to Lestrade--and then the bigger thrill of Sherlock turning on him, eyes glinting, mouth curved in a dangerous grin.

"Nothing like a good chase," Sherlock said, closing on him and crushing John's collar in his fists, pushing him behind a different tree, "to make me feel positively ravenous."

" _We're in public_ ," John should have protested, " _and the main driveway is literally ten yards away,_ " but instead he let Sherlock kiss him, his lips cold but soft, his hands gripping John's clothes as his body crowded him back against ridged bark.

" _We just sent the Inspector the coordinates - he'll be here in a matter of minutes_ ," he should have pointed out, but Sherlock's tongue was sweet and hot in his mouth and his hands were sliding down John's chest.

" _I'm not gay_ ," he should have reminded him, but it was easier and better to let Sherlock shove his hands down John's trousers; and so much better to pant against Sherlock's mouth as those deft fingers wrapped around his cock.

"You're getting stronger," Sherlock muttered, kissing John's neck as he started pumping his hand, and John tipped his head back and scowled up at the stars in pained delight. This was such a terrible idea, but God help him, terrible ideas like this got him through the day. This was _normal_ now. "More cunning," Sherlock was saying, between kisses, "faster on your feet - I saw you dispatch that big ugly one without even breaking a sweat," and it shouldn't have been hot to have his fighting technique appraised, but it was Sherlock in one of his moods, and so anything went with sex, and sex went with anything.

His orgasm rushing towards him like a slow-motion bullet in a film, John gave himself up into Sherlock's knowing, demanding hands, and said the one thing he always _would_ say - "Yes" - again and again and again.


End file.
